Its a Jeep thing

I think a lot of my blogs are melancholy. Actually I KNOW that most of them air on the side of angst. I know how dreary it can be as a reader for an author to whine as much as I do. That being said I am striking up a new policy, for every dank and depressing piece I feel compelled to write about, I have to write something a little more cheery. I figure a 2 to 1 ratio aint too bad, besides, by my count currently I’m long overdue for something nice to write, here goes nothing!

I decided somewhat recently that my dear sweet Jeep Wrangler is preparing me for the most important job I will have for the rest of my life and all eternity… yes, marriage. Sounds weird that driving around a rust bucket like that could be likened to something as sacred and blissful as marriage, but roll with me here.

I bought into my Jeep for many reasons, I signed up for those moments of complete happiness when all is right with the world. There is a moment when owning a Jeep is the most glorious feeling in which I feel as though I am one with the universe. It happens often in mid summer after a long run up in the mountains as the sun slowly sets. A warmth is trapped in the atmosphere heating my skin, while winds dance furiously with my hair the faster I speed down the highway. I’m listening to Fleetwood Mac, “Go Your Own Way.” I watch as the colors change in the sky, sun setting ever slowly into a summer night… this is when driving my Jeep is perfect, everything is right, this is why I bought this thing.

Much like the good times in my Jeep, in marriage we buy into the good times. We buy into those blissful moments that seem to never end. The way he looks at me just before he is going to kiss me. The way she squeezes my hand tightly. The way I feel inside when he tells me how pretty he thinks I am. The way she needs me. How could anyone desire anything but this heaven sent peace. This is why I got married.

I took really good care of my Jeep at first, naturally. My Jeep is hardly new, I affectionately refer to her as vintage as she was created in ‘94. She might not have been new, but my Jeep was new to me. My shiny, new toy. I washed her once every two weeks or so, sometimes sooner if it rained. I put money into fixing her up, had her oil changed regularly, and did all I could to make her pur like a kitten, after all, this thing was worth investing a little into.

In the very early stages of courtship that precursor to ’I do’, we do everything we can to get the oil changed regularly so to speak. Date nights are lavish, each counterpart giving everything they have to put their best food forward. She buys a new outfit, something to impress him. He cleans out his car and opens every door, he wants her to know he’s a gentlemen. She is polite, gracious. He is charming, witty. Both are working equally hard to prove to the other that they are a worthwhile person, worth investing a little into.

After settling into my Jeep I soon realized that I most likely didn’t need to wash her every other week and I probably didn’t need to put the more expensive gas in her, that regular old unleaded stuff would suffice, especially since my little monster was guzzling gas like it was her day job. I would get the oil changed but I can probably stretch it just a little longer between changes. My Jeep was loud, but that was fine… right?

There is a point during marriage, sometimes even during dating, when each person gets a little too comfortable. There is a sense of security that comes along with that unrequited love you worked so hard to earn from one another. This is the point that its easy to become reckless and careless. She knows I love her, I don’t have to take her out to dinner all the time, it was getting expensive anyway, she understands that. He already knows how handsome I think he is, I’ve told him a thousand times. We both love each other and we’re doing fine… right?

Everything was fine with the little monster, we had a couple hiccups, but nothing too major. Then it happened, the grand daddy of fix-its. Furiously I pressed the peddle down, the Jeepster roared, from the sound of the engine we should be cruising and yet we only moved inches… my dear sweet transmission, may it rest in pieces. After paying for a tow truck to haul her off to the nearest mechanic and then hearing the diagnosis from the man in coveralls, I sobbed and sobbed, it was going to cost me an arm and a leg to fix that hunk of junk. I’m stuck though, she’s mine. At this point I can’t really afford not to fix her. I gave the man the go ahead. As I drove home in my mom’s car I settled into resentment. That stupid Jeep, I just needed to fix it and get rid of it. Let that vehicle be someone else’s problem. I need to get something newer, something better.

When the newness wears off those blissful moments are that, just moments, often falling few and far between the other. It seems that the never ending pleasantries have ended and Eden has fallen, nothing is as it was. She’s constantly complaining that I don’t love her, that I don’t do enough to show her that I love her, sometimes I wonder. All she ever does is nit pick and get after me for things that aren’t that important. He seems so cold, its like he no longer cares. He used to be so willing to help me out and do anything to make me happy, now its like pulling teeth. I don’t think he even likes to be around me anymore. Sometimes a marriage or a relationship can feel like a trap, like a broken down Jeep you can’t get out from under. What once was new and exciting has now become a burden, an obligation to take care of because there isn’t any other option. Each looking at the other with a need to find someone newer, someone better.

While my little monster was in the shop I drove my mom’s car around, a Hyundai Sonata. It’s a smooth little ride, gas mileage is phenomenal, its nice and quiet on the freeway, and it gets up to speed. Can’t say that I minded one bit driving that little guy around. I began to wonder how much money I could sell my Jeep for and what kind of new car I could get into. The dreams of better things quickly ended when it snowed, and snowed, and snowed some more. I found myself timidly driving around in that little burgundy machine. Each turn of the wheel I had a prayer in my heart that I would live to see tomorrow. Is my mom’s car that bad at handling in the snow? Probably not, but I missed my big 4-wheel driving mini monster nonetheless.

I got my Jeepster back this week and in every sense it felt like home. The resentment I had towards her for breaking down in such a costly way had simmered. I will be making payments to my daddy-dearest for the next while until that rebuilt tranny is paid off, but that was manageable, I just felt at peace once more nestled in the driver’s seat of my wrangler. This is where I belonged.

I think sometimes in relationships it is easy to become complacent and lazy. Furthermore it is easy to forget the very things that drew us to that person in the fist place. It was easy for me to stop putting the kind of effort and money into my Jeep to help it run smoothly, much like it is easy for lovers to become lax with one another and do the same. Relationships take work. A smooth relationship does not exist without a constant effort to improve and be the best person you can be for the other and towards the other. When I focus on how much it costs to fix my Jeep or how often I’m needing to fill up the gas tank, I quickly forget those long summer drives and how happy this material thing can make me. Now my car is just a car, in all reality I could just go buy another one and after all I’ve put up with her I probably should. But marriage isn’t about trading in for a bigger better deal. Its about taking the good with the bad. Its about remembering that just because there is bad, doesn’t mean that good no longer exists. Its about reveling in those blissful moments and taking the struggles in stride. Its like my Jeep: sometimes costly, not always the smoothest ride, but in the end its worth it because not every car can make it to the top of a mountain.